


Veneer

by aboxthecolourofheartache



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Gen, Graffiti, Jewelry, Trust, Unspecified Setting, once bitten twice shy but my god these wizards are trying their best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27679939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aboxthecolourofheartache/pseuds/aboxthecolourofheartache
Summary: Caleb’s shift in expression catches the drow’s attention.  Essek’s pale silver eyes lift, and Caleb instantly flicks his focus to the tip of one pointed ear.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss & Caleb Widogast
Comments: 18
Kudos: 96





	Veneer

**Author's Note:**

> Still getting a feel for writing these characters. This feels a little soft, but then the premise is primarily supposed to be self-indulgent. Short, but tentatively sweet!

Caleb’s shift in expression catches the drow’s attention. Essek’s pale silver eyes lift, and Caleb instantly flicks his focus to the tip of one pointed ear. Because he is watching, he notices the subtle attentive pricking that makes an earring chain glint in the candlelight. Essek raises a brow. 

Caleb points to the table between them with his little finger, but otherwise keeps both hands supporting the brittle-spined book he holds. Essek looks down to where he has absentmindedly peeled up a perfect fiddlehead spiral of veneer with the sharp point of his nail. “Ah,” he says, and there is another twinkle from the earring chain, the merest hint of his ears pinning back in chagrin. He relaxes, tilts his head, and considers the line in the wooden surface. He begins scoring a deliberate second line parallel to the first. 

Caleb watches curiously. “New earrings?” he asks. 

The corner of Essek’s mouth tugs up. He is scribing two generous hemispheres below the parallel lines. And hah! Caleb sees it now: balls. Jester will be delighted. 

“Not new, but you are correct that you have not seen them before. I prefer different jewelry for court.” Essek pauses. One ear swivels fractionally, chain sparkling, as he taps the point of his nail at the top of the parallel lines. His lips purse in thought. “Does the, ah… Jester’s deity. Is there a preferred morphology for idle devotional iconography?” 

Caleb feels heat touch his face, the curse of pale skin. He’s not even really embarrassed. In fact, he opens his mouth to reply, then closes it and scrunches his face up when he realizes he does not have a good answer. “You know, I have never asked?” 

“No?” 

Caleb’s blush intensifies even as he ignores this. “A dick is a dick, _ja_?” As an afterthought, he tacks on, “Maybe syphilitic.” 

“...Really?” Essek wears what can only be described as a polite grimace. His ears are canted back and flat. Caleb can all but see the Dynasty’s limited literature on religious tolerance scrolling behind that - somewhat fixed - silver stare. 

“No.” 

“Light be praised. Then I will assume that an offering made with good intent on behalf of a fr-... a friend might be allowed some grace with regard to inexactitude,” Essek resolves and proceeds in his vicariously holy vandalism. 

Caleb does not miss the stumble over ‘friend,’ whether intentional or not. “The chains,” he says, drawing an imaginary loop from his earlobe to the top of the cartilage. “They are what I thought might be new. To wear them at court - it is your preference not to? Or there is symbology? I ask because our friends enjoy decorating themselves.” And yes: the calculated ‘our’ elicits a glitter as Essek’s ears subtly drop and pin. 

Caleb would not have picked up on any shift without the movement of the chain. For a human, he supposes he is somewhat more attentive to such things from his training and his time travelling with a goblin and a firbolg. Veth, when she was Nott, used her ears to telegraph everything. Caduceus is too consciously placid to overtly emote, though his ears move perpetually collecting sound. But Caleb knows them, their moods and habits. Essek is a cagey bastard at the best of times. 

”We would not wish to be inadvertently rude,” Caleb continues solicitously in the face of all evidence. The Mighty Nein is frequently a walking, talking inadvertent offence. They are, himself included, often a walking, talking _intentional_ offence. 

“You are nothing of the kind,” Essek assures him, so falsely generous that Caleb has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. The drow is still scratching a charmingly offensive graffito into the library table. He adds a final touch and leans back in his chair, pleased with the result. Caleb makes sure he gets a look too, because the girls will never forgive him if he cannot recreate for them the details of a one-of-a-kind Essek den Thelyss masterpiece. 

Essek touches a pendulum charm that dangles at the end of the chain on his left ear. Caleb isn’t an expert, but he thinks that the narrow charm is not only decorative but also the method for threading the end through the piercing. 

“There is some symbolism. I would not wear more than two loops on each ear. Or anything like a net.” The drow’s lip curls. “Too reminiscent of a spiderweb,” he clarifies, anticipating Caleb’s question. “Gauche bordering on sacrilege.” 

“And for this reason you do not wear any chains at all to court? To preempt…,” Caleb trails off, turning his hand in the air as if he could summon the right word from his mental dictionary as easily as casting a spell. Essek nods understandingly. They share, for a moment, the unique solidarity of two people whose primary shared language is neither of their native tongues. 

“To a small degree,” Essek agrees. He parses his next words even more carefully than usual. “It comes down to mere preference. Whim says some pieces are for work and others are, hm, more personal.” 

Essek’s silver gaze rests on Frumpkin, tacitly giving Caleb permission to scrutinize him. His ears, Caleb notes, are perfectly relaxed and stationary, betraying nothing and everything. If he can do this with the equivalent of signal flares even the rube human can read attached to his pinnae, his control in court must be excruciatingly exact. It’s blatantly obvious that Essek is capable of withholding the offered somatic tells. That he could intentionally misdirect with them too goes without saying. But… he arrived to visit with Caleb wearing an obvious - if decorative - handicap he ‘prefers.’ 

It is the most tremulous, pitiable, roundabout plea for trust Caleb has ever known. 

“Well,” says Caleb, steeling himself. “I like them.” 

Essek looks up, and Caleb manages to answer with three-and-a-half seconds precisely of sustained eye contact before his pulse starts to jump erratically in his neck and he has to yank his gaze aside. Essek diplomatically offers Frumpkin the end of a pen to bat while they both recover. 

Caleb quietly clears his throat. “I do like them,” he repeats, cracking a crooked smile. “Hmm... Would you recommend me a jeweler, perhaps? I am considering an amber drop in addition to the necklace.” 

Essek’s ears prick. “Ah! Your Vault? If you can please rescue my pen from your cat, I will write you a list of my favored jewelers, certainly.” 

From there, the conversation slides inevitably into the Vault’s schematics, and every smile they share is easier than the last.


End file.
